<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>MallekWeek2021 Writing Prompts by HeuristicallyInclined</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29934219">MallekWeek2021 Writing Prompts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeuristicallyInclined/pseuds/HeuristicallyInclined'>HeuristicallyInclined</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hiveswap, Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Mallek Week 2021, mallek week</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:42:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,889</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29934219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeuristicallyInclined/pseuds/HeuristicallyInclined</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It is Mallek Week again and I am back for it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Day 1: Robots</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Be the robot you wish to see in the world.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Beginning the final diagnostics scan signaled that your life was ending. </p><p>Well, this part of it. You think it might depend on how you define “life” and at this point you’ve got too much going on to wax fake philosophical on what it really even means to be alive. Especially when it doesn’t change the fact that you’re wrapping up the wetware portion of it. </p><p>Really you didn't see how you didn't think of this sooner. You spent so long looking for robots and studying their programming, figuring out what made them tick and make them do what you wanted. Not for this reason, but a guy can have a hobby that helps pay the bills. It taking this direction definitely fucking added to them.</p><p>You branched out from just fucking with other people’s shit and figured out how to make your own robot. It sounds a lot more impressive than it actually is. Basically anyone with the right tools could make one. Grab some hardware, attach a computer to it, string some code together, and give it a power source. Add some sensors if you’re feeling fancy. A simple machine is nothing to brag about.</p><p>And you didn’t want this to be a simple machine, you wanted to make it you. </p><p>The hardware was the easy part. It was mostly finding and acquiring parts that met your standards and your previous work experience gave you more than enough places to start looking. The more abstract shit like the outer casing was harder. A lot of late mornings researching different alloys trying to understand what percentage of aluminum made something not worth your time and how to get a specific blend without anyone asking too many questions. You had enough of those on your own.</p><p>The facial plates had to be more flexible, able to move in tandem and convey expression. It was a lot of extra work to not actually bring much practical benefit, but again, this wasn’t just a machine. This was you.</p><p>Maybe you briefly entertained the idea of maybe making some sort of silicone covering for situations where you would want to be more subtle about the robot thing. But that got tossed out pretty quickly. That shit ages fast and ends up looking creepy as fuck. So you decided to steer away from uncanny valley and embrace being a sick looking robot.</p><p>Customizing it helped ground you when you had to lean away from the tech side of biotech. Biology was never really your thing and not being gold meant you had put all of your focus in those inorganic skills since you didn’t have any psionics to help back you if you fucked up. It’s weird, looking at biological and artificial neural networks, laser etching in familiar patterns to keep your hands as busy as your pan while you were trying to figure out how to start with one and end with the other only to see how similar they were. </p><p>It wasn’t weirder than realizing that this might actually have a solid chance of working and not just frying your pan trying to do some stupid shit you weren’t meant to. This could work.</p><p>A chime brings your attention back to your screen. The scan is complete. </p><p>This is going to work. </p><p>You look away from your screen and look at it, you, lying ready on a table. You did good. It looks great. You wouldn’t mind spending time in that between changing out your outer plates and you even gave it some “piercings.” Figure you might as well keep something familiar on your face to help get used to it becoming made of metal.</p><p>And then you look off to the side of it, where the wires connected to it led, down the table and on the other side of the room to a glass recuperacoon for your body to rest indefinitely. You’d probably end up spending more time in there than the amount of time you spent in your actual coon throughout your life. Not really what you think your friends meant when they said you needed more sleep. You’re going to be beyond sleep soon.</p><p>You take a deep breath and execute your final program as a living, breathing troll and make your way into it.</p><p>You'd probably figure out a way to not need your body at some point. What would you do then? Get rid of it? Probably not. You never really got rid of anything. The mess surrounding you is a testament to that and how much of a sentimental fuck you can be. You’d probably just seal it and use it as another surface to pile things onto. You don’t think any amount of code is going to get you out of that habit.  </p><p>You step in and lay down in the modified nutritional slime and wait, too wired to really register how cold it felt. Your nerves aren’t really helping either as you start wondering if this was just working out too well for you and you somehow missed something important. Still, you buzzing with the anticipation of something happening, good or bad. </p><p>You hear a low hum from around you. </p><p>The buzz is now literal as an electric current runs through the slime and you are left paralyzed with a steadily increasing static that encompasses all of you. Despite being submerged in liquid you feel like you are on fire and you are painfully aware of everything in your surroundings. This clarity that only enhances your agony. You feel it. You feel everything so much brighter and louder and more. </p><p>Until you don't. </p><p>Until your body is no longer able process the amount of stimulus it’s getting and simply chooses not to. </p><p>It's dark. </p><p>And then there is nothing.</p><p>Your vision comes back into focus slowly as you open your eyes and see a familiar crack in the ceiling. You think you're opening your eyes at least. It takes you longer than you want to admit to realize you’re adjusting your lenses. </p><p>Oh shit, it actually worked.</p><p>Slowly, you lift yourself with a weight that you simultaneously do and don’t recognize as your own. The whole thing is disorienting. At first you wonder if the way you perceive things and the way you understand them are out of sync. But then you get it, they aren’t out of sync, you’ve just have never gotten this much information about your surroundings at the same time before.</p><p>The closest comparison is it's like you're playing an fps. You are you, yes, but are above and around you and know things you otherwise wouldn’t if you had only just been perceiving from the perspective of someone seeing only what was in front of them. You’re doing a lot more than that now as even something as innocuous as your block floods you with information and even sitting still you are moving faster than you ever thought possible. </p><p>It’s a lot. It’s exhilarating. </p><p>You get off the table and check your balance, shifting your weight from one strutpod to the other before moving towards the mirror. Your steps grow more sure as you continue, getting more confident that you aren’t going to break this in the dumbest way possible. </p><p>And then you see yourself.</p><p>The silhouette matches the one you were expecting even if the features were off. Skin lighter and shinier than you were expecting and eyes glowing a menacing red. Some cobalt glints back at you and you can’t help but smile at the image of a pierced robot. </p><p>It works. Your face moves and all of the bullshit and work was worth it. </p><p>But there is still one final thing you need to try to know if you’ve really pushed every limit you can.</p><p>You go back to your husktop, all of the readings displayed are already known to you, and you minimize the window. You open your browser and click on a bookmark you had saved just for this moment.</p><p>A familiar window pops up asking you the same question you had answered hundreds, if not thousands of times before. You click the box, lying for the first time, and wait. A check mark appears and there are no words to describe the sheer amount of power you feel.</p><p>“i = in;” you smirk.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know where you thought this was going, but I'm sorry I used this as a vehicle to make a single joke.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Day 2: Sacrifice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mallek finds something worth sacrificing for.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You can’t feel your fingers anymore, but that’s not even close to your biggest problem at the moment.</p>
<p>You stopped looking at the feeds. You know drones are in here and they clearly know about you and watching them advance on your position isn’t going to help you finish faster. </p>
<p>It was supposed to be a quick job. Get in, get whatever information you could, and get the fuck out so you could see if it was actually worth the effort. You weren’t actually expecting to find something this good. </p>
<p>You weren’t expecting to see a security patch that hadn’t gone live yet. </p>
<p>Fuck, it even had patch notes. The exploits you found that let you reroute drones were nothing compared to this. It meant changing preexisting commands instead of just their parameters and could change the fucking game.</p>
<p>It would at least, if you could just finish.</p>
<p>Everything is taking longer than it should. Firewall was more of a bitch to deal with than you thought it would be. But they can’t stop you, just slow you down. You can feel the walls vibrating as they approach. You managed to buy yourself some time by turning on the site’s security system, but you’re just stalling them and you know it.</p>
<p>You could have just left when shit started popping off and maybe you should have. But you didn’t. You were curious and fucked around and found out and this is going to blow up in your face very soon.</p>
<p>It won’t be for nothing. You’re going to make sure of that. </p>
<p>Somewhere in the distance, you hear the sound of metal crunching. </p>
<p>It doesn’t matter if you can’t do shit with it. You don’t have the tools on you or even the time to do it. But you knew a few people who do, other people in the rebellion. You just need to crack into this and do this fucking baton pass so someone who is less of an idiot than you can make use of it.</p>
<p>You’re in. </p>
<p>It’s probably the last time you’re ever going to get to make that joke to yourself. Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you start the secure upload process. You wonder who is going to be the one to use it. Would they get how big it was? What it meant? They better if you died over it. </p>
<p>They would. You knew they would because they were a part of your team. </p>
<p>Working with other hackers was something you had given up on for a long time until you joined the rebellion. You actually really liked it, between the work and not being around people constantly jacking it to the empire and the importance of working together for its glory. You never really bought the whole “being a part of something greater than yourself” bullshit from the empire and it was more of a passing thought in the rebellion. It was something you knew but didn’t really feel. </p>
<p>You think you get it now. It sucks that you had to just about be a corpse to actually get it. </p>
<p>You not having time to miss it is probably a good thing. You don’t want to go out moping. You don’t think you’d even have the head space to with how the shaking is getting louder as drones approach, on the same floor as you now. You have never been more pissed off at a loading bar. Its slow crawl towards one hundred contrasts wildly with the beat of your pusher. It’s almost mocking, like it knows how stressed you are and how much this means to you and is determined to spite you before you go. </p>
<p>You hate this. You’re tense. You’re tense and can’t do shit about it other than wait it out with time you don’t have. You glance at the feed and swallow when you see the remains of the security system you activated. They tore through it. They had to work for it sure, but in the same way you had to deal with the firewall. It was a temporary inconvenience and they’re coming for your ass and you can’t even say for sure that you’ll have accomplished what you came here for. </p>
<p>It’s at 97%. You are going to have a fucking conniption if this is the project you leave undone. </p>
<p>There is a heavy thud at the door and you start glancing around rapidly. The room is small and you don’t know if it’s worth it to see if you can draw their attention to the other side of it to make sure it’s done or buy a few extra seconds. It doesn’t end up mattering.</p>
<p>It reaches 100%. It’s complete. You fucking did it. </p>
<p>Your shoulders relax and you give a soft laugh of relief.</p>
<p>You can’t hear it over the deafening sound of the door being blown open.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not going to lie, I really dislike writing action, but I am pretty happy with how this turned out.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Day 3: AU</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some sort of post-rebellion AU where people are putting back the pieces and Mallek gets to work on the drones.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The beginning patch note was my favorite part of this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>update 380.210.310;<br/>bug fixes and improvements;</p>
<p>improved fuel efficiency;<br/>drones will no longer become hostile through eye contact;<br/>drones will no longer become hostile through walking speed;<br/>drones will no longer become hostile to meet minimum culling threshold;<br/>removed minimum culling threshold;<br/>adjusted swarming behavior;<br/>improved hive repair request processing times for warmer castes;<br/>decreased sensitivity to threats;<br/>redefined threat elimination as neutralization of hostile forces instead of complete termination of all living parties within range;<br/>expanded delivery routes;<br/>slight reworks to order of operations for calculating most efficient routes with paths no longer taking drones through physical structures;  <br/>updated version number;</p>
<p>You save the file and stretch, feeling relief despite the soreness in your neck and slump back against your chair. This was just the latest in what you know is going to be an unending series of updates to the drones. You made sure the big shit like raids and culling mutants and non trolls on sight got patched out fucking immediately, but it was still extremely superficial. </p>
<p>You had hundreds of thousands lines of code created on top of and around each other over the eons. Shit that probably should have been completely overhauled, instead just got built over like some ancient ass hive where the plumbing and electricity where right next to each other because there was no other fucking place to put it. The stuff you had touched in the past had only been scratching at the surface of it. </p>
<p>The base coding was simultaneously the easiest and hardest part. At its core, it was the base genetic code of what you’re guessing were “proto drones,” solely biological organisms acting on instinct and the discretion of the Empress prior to their “streamlining.” On top of that, where generations of modifications created by trolls based on the Empress’s decrees, made to be quick, effective, and implemented as soon as possible with basically no thought to whoever the unfortunate fucker coming after them was going to have to try to make sense of it. </p>
<p>The fucker in question ended up being you. </p>
<p>You don’t mind though. You don’t know how many people know drones the way you do at this point, not with your interest and where your line of work has taken you over the sweeps, dabbling in things in varying levels of legality. You just weren’t expecting an offer giving you actual, legitimate access to them with the intention of you making them less fucked up and more functional. Apparently several people you knew and worked with in the past had offered up your name. It sounded too good to be true and you seriously thought it had to be some sort of trap. Until you saw the full extent of the work you’d be given. </p>
<p>The good news is you’d get your fronds on restricted documents and would be directly working on drone code. The catch is, you would be directly working on drone code. </p>
<p>You can’t say much about how shit was pre condesce, but from what you can tell, each new era in imperial expansion came with a major update following shortly after and several accompanying patches. Adults going off world, the creation of ordeals, initial conquests, and the conquests thereafter, different eras in troll history weren’t just written in books but in the empire’s drones too. You’re sure if you dig around long enough, you’ll find some history from before her too. No clue how comprehensible it will be or how useful, but being an information specialist, you’ll work it out.</p>
<p>If you’re looking at this short term, forcing the OS into doing something antithetical to its previous programming is going to be a never ending series of patches and updates with a fuckton of bugs from all of the twisting and tearing you’re going to have to do to it. It’s doable and you’ve been doing it, but it’s not exactly the best solution long term, which might just be to burn it down and start over. </p>
<p>You’re only half-joking.  </p>
<p>You aren’t going to pretend it wouldn’t be cathartic as hell and that there isn’t some sort of appeal to going beyond just owning their systems speaking directly to your wriggler self. But that would be a massive endeavor and would easily take a few hundred sweeps just to get some semi functional beta going and be a major pain in the ass. </p>
<p>It could be something to think about. Maybe as some work on the side. Do some drafting while in between your short term fixes. It couldn’t hurt to play around with it and would let you know if this was actually somewhere in the realm of possibility or a just total waste of time before you start getting too attached to the idea. Especially since this would be the kind of project that would require way more planning than you’ve ever done before.</p>
<p>A lot more than you could do today anyways. </p>
<p>You glance at your screen’s clock and another wave of exhaustion hits you as if to reaffirm, “yeah, it really is that fucking late.” Despite it, you think you could probably finish something quick. You had a draft for the next update in your pan. Could start on that and put it down before you forget something. And just looking over your log again, you could probably do a few more tweaks to fuel efficiency. </p>
<p>You stretch again, placing your hands back down on the keys.</p>
<p>Might as well while you’re here.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A lot of these end up me slipping in my own hcs for how things work.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Day 4: Fashion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Helping a friend clean results in an unintended trip down an aesthetic memory lane.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Is this you?" you ask, holding up a photo.</p><p>In it is a young cerulean boy grinning widely at the camera. His hair peeks out from a beanie swooshing out to the sides until it reaches his neck. He is wearing wide, baggy pants with large side pockets and a shirt several sizes too big with a familiar zigzag on it. He looks much scrawnier than he is with how he's basically swimming in all that fabric. Flat, chunky skate shoes press against his board, angling it up in what looks like either the beginning of a sweet trick or sweet plant. </p><p>It's pure fucking gold.</p><p>He looks up from his own stack of clutter he was sorting and takes it from you, chuckling when he sees it. "shit; this one = from when i was starting to learn how to skate; i haven't seen this in a while;"</p><p>"How old were you?" </p><p>"about six;" he thinks to himself "yeah; that was when i had my tohnee hawkke phase;" </p><p>"More like starting it," you tease.</p><p>He shoves your shoulder, smiling. "i have some more stuff going on now; not just boarding;"</p><p>"I’m just surprised you didn’t hatch with a mohawk. You really committed to the skater look."</p><p>"becoming a pro skater means looking the part;"</p><p>"Sure. You looked real fucking gnarly.” </p><p>He snorts.</p><p>“How'd the actual skating go?"</p><p>"this picture; was taken moments before my first heel flip;" he says proudly.</p><p>"Nice.”</p><p>He continues in the same tone, "and minutes before i fell off the rail i tried to grind on;"</p><p>"No helmet either," you frown.</p><p>"yeah; != my best move; luckily i just got a little scratched up; the worst part was my lusus was so pissed when he found out; he confiscated my skateboard for two wipes; it didn’t really teach me a lesson; but i did have some time to pick up some a new hobby;"</p><p>He gives you a conspiratorial grin.</p><p>“Wait, that’s why you started learning how to hack?”</p><p>“no; that was way before that; i watched a lot of grubtube videos and gave myself a shitty little poke and stick;”</p><p>You recall how much of Mallek you’d seen since you met him. You don’t recall a shitty tattoo anywhere there, but granted, you might have been distracted.</p><p>“Where?” you ask.</p><p>He pulls up one of his sleeves, revealing what looks like a small smudge. </p><p>“my wrist; i had no idea what i was doing so it didn’t really take evenly and it ended up looking terrible; it’s mostly faded now so at least i don’t look like a dumbass; plus i = getting a sleeve done soon and that = going to cover it completely;”</p><p>“Cool. Any idea what kind of design you’re doing?”</p><p>“yeah; i have a few sketches;” He looks around the debris caused by the two of you attempting to organize his shit. “somewhere;” He frowns, “i think they were on the coffee table;”</p><p>“We moved shit off the coffee table onto the couch to wipe down the table.”</p><p>“and the couch = covered in clothes that used to be in the kitchen;”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“because of spills;” he states, borderline alarmingly plainly. “so they’re going to be buried until we finish this; this = why i don’t clean;” he sighs.</p><p>“This is because you don’t clean,” you state, putting the photo off to the side for safekeeping and returning to your stack to continue sorting. “Come on, I want to see those sketches.”</p><p>“sure;” he resumes as well and the two of you resume your previous rhythm, making steady progress through the mounds. </p><p>Until you find another picture of him, slightly older, sporting what looked like the unfortunate bastard child of a mullet and mohawk.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wanted to give him some unfortunate looks before he settled on the punk look he has today.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Day 5: Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The inevitable is here and Mallek gets comforted by his lusus.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is a heaviness the morning before you depart from Alternia. </p><p>There isn’t anything you can do about it. There isn’t actually anything left for you to do. You “owning the drones” never got anywhere. You aren’t particularly shocked if you’re being honest. If you somehow managed to figure it out, then that meant that someone other than you who knew more about what they were doing definitely would have figured it out by now and pulled some shit. But no one did. Because they couldn’t.</p><p>Your failure wasn’t a surprise, but it was a disappointment. And it stung.</p><p>And that stinging eventually settled into a dull weight in your gut as you went through the motions of preparing for your ordeals. It felt like it should have slowed you down, like it should have made everything feel more stagnant, now that you couldn’t do anything but wait for the inevitable, but instead everything felt like it was moving faster than it ever had, and was just dragging you along with it.</p><p>Now, here you are. Ready to truly become a citizen of the empire. Shit packed and hive basically empty. Except for you, a few pieces of furniture, and that heavy, heavy dread that made itself right at home inside of you while you could barely recognize the space surrounding you. </p><p>Your ordeals had always loomed over you, something you had always known about in the back of your mind that you had to do that moved to the forefront as you got older. They pushed you almost as much as they weighed you down and now there was just no getting around them and seeing all of the nothing surrounding you where your life used to be makes that fact viscerally fucking apparent. </p><p>It’s only the physical weight that wraps itself around you that brings you any sort of comfort. </p><p>Your lusus wasn’t exactly happy with all of the changes either. You know he always wanted you to clean more, clear up some space on the floor, do dishes, that kind of thing. But this wasn’t that. He kept flicking his tongue out as you cleared your shit out and the place became less and less you. His thoughts on clutter aside, the openness seemed to bother him more. You felt it too. Everything felt too bare now, too exposed. </p><p>No place for either of you to hide you guess. </p><p>You kept your coon and your couch. No real use for anything else. You kept his enclosure too, not that he’s really used it, more preferring to hang around you. It just happened to be literal right with how draped himself around you on the couch. You’re about to be an adult. Having your lusus getting this custodial over you at your age should be embarrassing but you’ve got too much going on to actually care.</p><p>Maybe you do want your lusus around right now. </p><p>You mean, they have a harder time without their ward and don’t tend to last long without one. So this is more for him, before he has to make his own journey back to the caverns so he doesn’t have to deal with the other creatures on the planet. They actually have it pretty sweet with having a ward.  </p><p>A lusus leads their grub out of the caverns and they roam, looking for a suitable spot to build a hive. Logically you know you did this, but you don't actually remember shit. You're guessing that your lusus slithered to some high point with you and the drones took it from there. You vaguely remember him guiding you to get your hive customized more as you got older and more able to voice any kind of opinion, but that was still a long time ago and your more recent shit was minor. You'd prefer to keep the drones away from your hive with what you get up to. Or got up to.</p><p>Damn.</p><p>It’s rough to think about and it has you simultaneously more exhausted than you’ve ever been while still being anxious as hell. But him squeezing around your shoulders stops you from keeping too much tension in them and gives you something to focus on, something outside of your pan, and you definitely appreciate it. Mindlessly, you start to stroke against his scales, focusing on what is actually in front of you. It helps and you start to relax a bit. Until you make a rookie mistake.</p><p>You yawn. </p><p>You immediately feel him tighten in concern as he shifts to look over at you. </p><p>“i = fine;” you say on reflex more than anything.</p><p>He doesn’t buy it and keeps shifting until brings himself down in front of you and gestures to your coon.</p><p>Okay. Yeah. You're definitely too old for this.</p><p>You really doubt you’re going to be able to fall asleep right now. If anything, this is just going to end up being a slight change of scenery for you. The whole situation is just shitty and bad and there is nothing you or him can do about it and you going to sleep isn’t actually going to change anything. But he knows that. He knows that and he isn’t trying to do anything about what he can’t control.  </p><p>He starts getting more insistent, butting his head against you. </p><p>Maybe that’s all you can do.</p><p>So one last time, you relent, and head off to your coon. You settle in and just like you thought, the slime doesn’t actually make you feel sleepier. It is more comfortable though. You lean back into it and start to drift back into your thoughts when you notice your lusus’s silhouette in the doorway. </p><p>It’s familiar. You’ve seen it plenty of times and felt plenty of different ways about it over time. Safe, secure, annoyed, startled. That last one was mostly when he caught you playing your gamegrub when you were supposed to be sleeping. This time though, you’re not a little kid. Things would be less complicated if you were. And you’d probably have an easier time trying to describe how knowing this is the last time you’d ever see this makes you feel because you don’t think that just saying “upset” covers all of it.</p><p>He lingers and looks at you for a long moment before hissing softly and closing the door.</p><p>You didn’t know a snake could look sad.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've done a lot for ships in the past and wanted to explore something nonromantic for a change and it got me to learn about snake behavior and body language. Neat.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Day 6: Sburbland</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mallek goes through his hero's quest.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“A sole shuttle winds through its path, yet it carries no passenger. The endless circuit of one has halted those of the many. Restore movement to the system and reap your reward.”</p><p>You used to think that the rhythmic thrum of your planet came from an unseen, giant shuttle, some massive train moving just beyond your field of vision. It apparently shook the ground hard enough to make using the other smaller shuttles on the planet impossible, leaving your consorts to a stagnant world full of places they could never reach. </p><p>It's pretty fucking depressing to be honest. So even if you weren't a completionist when it came to games, you would still do something about it. </p><p>Trying to find the shuttle was a bitch. You had to use all of your skills that you had picked up throughout the sweeps on your planet's iguanas to figure out what you planet looked like and traveled along the everstretching green tracks to create a map of all of the routes hoping that if you finished it, you could figure something out. And by the end of it, your map was mostly complete.</p><p>Except for a single blank spot.</p><p>Many paths seem to lead to the same area, and then just. Stop. With no apparent reason. No one appeared to live there and your consorts seemed to actively avoid it. So clearly, a sign you had found the right place. You flew towards it and immediately discovered why no one got too close to it. </p><p>It was fucking loud. You could barely hear yourself think as that thrum became more and more of a heavy clank as you approached, shaking the ground with it’s steady thuds. It doesn’t sound like any kind of shuttle you’ve ever heard, but you’ve seen enough in sgrub that some train acting weird isn’t enough to make you suspend your disbelief.</p><p>You’re numb to the sound by the time you see the station. Even as a shadow of its former self, it looked impressive. An imposing building, darker green than the tracks surrounding it and composed of several adjoined blunt pillars, stood tall with ornate carved lines and circles on the sides. You wonder if they named the planet for the circuits or added the circuits because of the name. Or maybe it doesn’t even matter because everything could have just materialized at the same time when you popped into the medium anyways. </p><p>Cluckbeast and egg scenarios aside, you enter the building, relieved to find some light within it as you walked through, following the sound as it got louder and louder and you could feel it in every part of yourself. You move carefully, more worried something would sneak up on you with all this sound. But there was no one. There is no one and nothing and it is so loud that proximity isn’t helping you find the fucking shuttle. You find a flight of stairs and slowly descend to the very bottom, hoping to find tracks. </p><p>Instead, you saw denizen for the first time. Parcae.</p><p>A massive, three headed being stands in front of the biggest and only loom you’ve ever seen in your life. They methodically toss an object between their hands with a deft movement at the pause of each beat of that oppressive, heavy clunking sound. It’s mesmerizing to watch and for a moment you do. You watch them work, creating a fabric. Your eyes follow it pouring out of the loom and through the tunnels, seemingly endless with grist tucked between the folds. </p><p>Then you realize what the object they’re holding is called. </p><p>To your credit, you don't groan out loud. You don’t know if you can get them to stop, but you’ll try.</p><p>“hey;” you call out.</p><p>The shuttle continues to be thrown back and forth.</p><p>You attempted to shout over the noise, “HEY;” </p><p>Your denizen doesn’t face you. She continues her weaving, totally unperturbed.</p><p>She doesn’t acknowledge you and the shitty thing is even if she wasn’t solely focused on her work and could be bother to lift one of her three heads away from what she was doing, you know she wouldn’t stop weaving, and the rhythmic clanking of her loom would continue drown out anything you tried to tell her. You don’t know if it’s because she doesn’t think you’re worth her time or if she’s genuinely too absorbed in her work to notice the world around her or some insulting combination of the two, but you’re going to make a fucking impression. </p><p>You came here ready to break or fight an evil train like in Phantom Rails or something, so at least them being here meant the trip wasn’t a total waste and you could still get something out of this. </p><p>You consider your options. Destroying the loom seems like the nuclear option and would absolutely be a pain in the ass to do, while trying to fight them off. But you don't think you actually have to go that far. You’re getting the impression that doing anything to stop it from moving is going to lead to an immediate strife.</p><p>Well. You came ready to complete your quest. You raise your hands, focusing intently, and do the time thing. </p><p>Time stops and everything is momentarily frozen. A red glow tinges everything. The shuttle remains mid flight, paused at its vertex and you knock into it as hard as you can towards a set of pillars that you fly towards. You land between them and resume the flow of time. </p><p>You are no longer pulling any temporal shenanigans. Despite that, the shuttle’s interrupted movement appears to happen in slow motion. </p><p>It flies towards you and clatters on the ground. An echo reverberates through the empty station. Objectively, it wasn’t even all that loud, but the clanking had stopped and it fall interrupt the silence settling over dim halls. </p><p>Your denizen pauses, momentarily disoriented as they snapped out of their trance. All of their heads were turned in confusion, staring at their empty hand where their shuttle should have been, where it would have been, before slowly following the path of its thread. Their eyes follow its trail on the ground, completely baffled as to how it could have landed there. Until they see you. </p><p>Then all six eyes focus on you in absolute loathing. </p><p>“hey;” you say, one final time as you rest a boot on it and grin.</p><p>Parcae lunges at you in response.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I never feel like I know what to do with sburb stuff and I have to go on the wiki for a half hour to remember how the game works, but I actually had a lot of fun doing it!</p><p>I see Mallek's planet as a circuit board with tracks and moving shuttles on the "circuits." I think this kind of thrum of machinery is neat because it ties in with some of his interests and also gives the planet that sort of musical quality I often associate with time players.</p><p>Parcae is the Roman term for the Fates and this fight kind of mirrors his own struggle with trying to break free of the future Alternia had planned for him.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>